Love Will Remember
by xoxoDeliriousMistakesxoxo
Summary: "I love you, Edward, and I always will. But I just can't do this anymore…not after what you did. I'm sorry. Love, Bella." Alice, now 17, has no idea who Edward or Bella are. Or why she's finding these notes in the attic 7 years after they were written. But whoever they are, she wants to get to the bottom of it. Who are these people, and why is no one telling her about them? AH, AU
1. PROLOGUE

**Legal BS:** Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**2013**

The cool breeze was a refreshing break from the constant rain and fog that had shrouded Forks for the past couple of weeks. There was no sun, but actual sunshine would've been too much to ask for, anyway. The lack of rain was good enough, though, for today at least. It made the trip a bit easier.

A sudden gust of wind dislodged the pale pink and white buds on the blooming apple tree, and the petals drifted down onto the lone couple kneeling in front of the two side by side graves. The woman covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stifle her sobs, as she read the inscriptions.

**...**

_Isabella Marie Swan_

_September 13, 1989_

_to_

_December 24, 2006_

_Beloved Daughter and Loving Girlfriend_

**...**

_Edward Anthony Masen Cullen_

_June 20, 1989_

_to_

_December 26, 2006_

_Beloved Son and Loving Brother and Boyfriend_

**...**

The man tried to comfort the woman, holding her close to him. "It's okay, Alice. You can let it out."

That was the only encouragement she needed before breaking down into strangled sobs, choking out incoherent apologies. Not that she even knew what she was apologizing for. Perhaps it was for not knowing they even existed until recently. Or maybe it was because she couldn't believe how terribly their lives ended.

But, momentarily, she forgot that the two people that lay in the ground before her couldn't hear her, and never would be able to.

It was too late.

She was much too late.

* * *

**The prologue was originally written by my close friend Sonia Raziella, who encouraged me to write this story. In her words: "Post the fucking thing, would you? You won't talk to anyone about it, so why not write a slight exaggerated, romantic drama about it?"**

**It was very inspirational.**


	2. 2013 - Alice

**Legal BS: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

**APRIL 4, 2013**

"Alice, wait up!"

I stop in my tracks, rolling my eyes. After a few seconds, a hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around. I tilt my head, smirking, at Jasper's panting form.

"What is it?" I ask sweetly.

He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing, nothing," he mutters, a small smile on his face. He isn't giving in.

"Okay then. I'm leaving." I don't even get a chance to turn around before he pulls me into a hug. My backpack falls to the sidewalk as I hug him back, smiling as I rest my head against his chest.

"Happy birthday, Alice," he says into my hair.

"SMILE!"

We turn around, startled, just as a white flash goes off. Kate grins at us from behind her camera. "That was _perfecto_, chicos," she says as she glances at the picture she had taken.

I shake my head and turn to Garrett, who is a few feet behind her. "Really Garrett? How could you let her do that?"

He holds up his hands in defense as he comes up to us. "Not my fault, Ally. I have no say in what she does, remember?"

We start laughing, remembering what happened when Garrett had tried to tell Kate not to take any more pictures of them when they went to Disneyland, saying that the couple hundred she had already taken were more than enough.

She wouldn't talk to him for a week after that, even installing a mini electric fence around her half of their shared apartment.

"So what are we doing for your birthday?" Kate asks. "Damn, you're finally 17, girl! Growing up so fast!" She wipes a nonexistent tear of pride from her face. She's a senior, making her act super touchy whenever age was concerned. In reality, Jasper and I are juniors, so we aren't that much younger than her and Garrett.

"I don't know," I say. Kate cuts me off before I can continue.

"You don't know? Hold up, hold up, hold the fuck up. _Alice Cullen doesn't know what she's doing for her birthday?!_"

"Kate, chill," I say, laughing as I pick up my backpack. "My parents are supposed to have a chat with me when we get home."

"About what?" Garrett asks, curious. We start walking to school.

"No idea."

**-:xoxo:-**

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" I drop my backpack near the staircase, intending on heading upstairs to finish my homework as soon as possible after the 'chat'.

"We're in the living room, honey!"

I sigh. Knowing my mom, Dad is in the living room while she is in the kitchen.

And I'm right; Mom enters the living room just as I do, a plate of brownies in her hands. "How was school today, dear?" she asks, setting the plate down on the center table. She pats the seat across from her as she sits down next to Dad.

I take a brownie from the plate before sitting. "It was fine, Mom." I glance from her to Dad. "So what do you guys want to talk to me about?"

They look at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Dad clears his throat. "Well, Alice, today's your birthday, and Mom and I have decided that you've been really responsible lately."

I nod, not sure where this is going yet.

"So we got you a present," he says, smiling.

"Okay . . . what is it?"

"But you have to promise us one thing," he continues, glancing at Mom.

I start to get an idea of what my present could be. I had just gotten my provisional driver's license a week ago. "Sure, anything!"

For a second, I don't think they hear me because they continue to have a silent conversation. They're worried about something, that's for sure.

But a few seconds later, they both look back to me, no evidence of their worry on their faces. "We'll tell you after we show you," Mom says. "Come on, let's go out to the back."

I try to hide my excitement as we head to the back garage, which is usually used for storage purposes. It's the only place used almost exclusively for storage other than the attic, but the attic is off-limits.

I still don't know why, after all these years.

Mom stops me before we step into the garage. "Close your eyes, and I'll lead you in, okay?"

I do as instructed, shutting my eyes tightly and holding out my hand. I feel her take it gently, and I carefully step down the few stairs that lead to the garage door.

Once we walk a few feet inside, my excitement starts bubbling to the surface and an uncontrollable grin makes it's way onto my face. Mom stops walking then, and I almost run into her.

"Okay Alice . . . open your eyes." She drops my hand.

I open them, blinking at the sudden light, and gasp. "Oh. My. God."

They got it. They got exactly what I'd wanted. I can't believe it.

I hesitantly stepped forward, brushing my fingers over the bright yellow of the Porsche. "Oh my god . . . thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

I start jumping up and down and turn back, first hugging Mom and then Dad. Then I run back to the car, checking over every detail. Even the number plate is personalized, if a bit subtle: A040413.

Dad chuckles at my enthusiasm. "Well, Alice, let's get back inside so we can tell you the conditions."

**-:xoxo:-**

"No driving past 10 on weekdays," says Dad.

"And no eating food in the car," adds Mom.

"Don't text while driving."

"Don't call while driving."

"Unless you're using Bluetooth."

"And no going _anywhere_ without telling us first."

"_Asking_, not _telling_."

"Don't go out of Forks without asking us."

"And don't go beyond Port Angeles without one of us with you."

"You'll be able to give rides to your friends, but don't stay out past 11 on the weekends."

"Which, before you ask, includes Friday."

"No giving rides to strangers."

"No getting rides from strangers if your car breaks down."

"Definitely no going out of state."

"And don't get us started on driving to Canada―"

"Mom, Dad, I think I get it," I interrupt. They were starting to scare me with their increasingly specific rules.

"We just want you to be safe, honey," Mom says, her smile forced. Her voice cracks on _safe_.

I sigh. "It's okay, I'll stay safe. Don't worry about me." I stand up, stretching slightly. "Is that it, then?"

Mom nods, and Dad tosses me the keys. "Have fun, sport," he says, smiling.

I grin widely and run to the garage. But I still hear what they say before I leave.

"Carlisle, are you sure about this?" Mom's voice betrays her anxiety, even while she tries to remain calm. "She just turned 17."

Dad smiles sadly at her. "Esme, dear, your worrying too much. What happened then . . . none of us could control."

"But we got him the car on his birthday, too―"

"Which is what we did with Emmett as well. Alice is responsible; she won't get into any trouble, and she _definitely_ won't get into anything like _that_. This isn't even related to _that_."

Mom sighs. "I guess I am overreacting . . . she just reminds me so much of him though."

**-:xoxo:-**

I text Jasper as fast as I can, my fingers flying over the screen. A minute later, the front door of his house opens and he steps out. He jogs to my car. I open the door from inside and hear his low whistle as he slides into the seat.

He kisses me lightly on the cheek before he closes the car door. "Nice ride," he comments. "So where are you taking me?"

I grin mischievously. "You'll just have to see, won't you?"

**-:xoxo:-**

"Damn it. My parents are going to kill me."

"Calm down, Alice. It'll be fine; they'll understand."

"No, you don't get it!" My eyes tear up as I stare straight ahead. "They'll think I'm just making up excuses. I mean seriously, who the hell believes the 'too much traffic' excuse?"

Jasper sighs, entwining our hands and squeezing mine gently. "Do you want me to be there when you tell them?"

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. They'll be even madder and jump to conclusions if they find out I've been with you. I texted them that I was going to go to the mall with Kate, not dinner with you."

He nods, understanding. He knows how my parents are about dinner dates. They usually supervise from a few tables away, and even though they won't intrude, it's just as annoying every time.

I _was_ okay with that, initially. But then it got really irritating, and so Kate and I devised a plan to avoid it: if Jasper and I ever want to go have dinner, I tell my parents I'm going shopping with Kate. They never mind Kate, since she was my best friend since childhood, but they're always wary about Jasper. Of course, they think he's an amazing guy, but I'm still their 'little baby'.

Jasper, at first, was reluctant. He didn't, and still doesn't, like the idea of tricking my parents like that. But eventually, I got him to warm up a little to it, and now he tells his parents he's over at Garrett's playing video games.

Another glance at the clock reminds me of how screwed I am.

10:03 PM.

If it had been a Friday, I would still be okay. But it's only Thursday, and their rules were crystal clear in my head.

_No driving past 10 on weekdays._

I can't lose my car. My precious car.

**-:xoxo:-**

I carefully open the front door. I know it's pointless; it's not like they won't notice me slip inside. But I can't help myself as I tiptoe across the living room toward the staircase.

"Mary Alice Cullen."

I stiffen at the sound of Mom's voice. She sounds _mad_.

Turning around slowly, I find her at the dining room table, which is still set up with a few plates and a cake.

Oh god, a cake.

"Mom, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot―"

"Alice, honey," Dad says, walking into the dining room and taking a seat next to Mom. "It's 10:43."

I grimace. "I know, Dad, and I'm sorry, but Kate and I lost track of time . . . and there was just so much traffic . . . "

Mom puts up a hand, stopping me. "Hand over the keys." She holds out her hand.

My eyes widen. "What? You're taking it away?!"

She stays fixed in her position, arm outstretched, waiting for the keys. I look to Dad. "Dad, please, you can't do this―"

"Actually, Alice, we can. We told you the conditions, and you didn't follow through on your part." He looks at me sadly. "Just give back the keys, Alice. We won't return the car, but you won't be driving it, either."

I stand still, frozen to my spot. They can't do this. I _just_ got my car, and they were saying that I couldn't drive it? Couldn't they just ground me for a month?

Mom clears her throat. "The keys, Alice."

I snap. "Fine!" I grab the keys from my purse and throw them at the table. "Take them!"

I turn around, running toward the staircase. I hear Dad stand up from the table. "Alice, honey, wait―"

"Leave me alone!" I scream. I grab my backpack from the foot of the staircase and run up the stairs, not looking back. I hear Mom sniffling downstairs, but I ignore it in my frustration.

"Alice, come back here right now!" Dad yells behind me. But he doesn't follow me up.

Reaching the second floor, I glance around. I can't go to my room, because if they really want to get me out of there, they know how to pick the lock. It's the same problem with all of the other rooms, except that they'll have to figure out which room I'm in if I'm not in my own.

I hear footsteps climbing up the stairs, and I spur into action without thinking. I race to my room, lock the door from the inside, and close it before sprinting to the other end of the hallway and stepping into a random room. I lock the door.

The footsteps head to my room, and I hear the person try to open the door. "Alice," Dad says. I freeze, barely breathing so I won't miss a thing. "Unlock the door."

I don't respond, obviously. He tries again, knocking on the door a few times. "Alice, please come out."

No response. I hear him sigh, defeated. "Come talk to us when you're ready, then." The footsteps approach the staircase and fade away as he heads downstairs.

I sigh in relief. I really don't want to be found right now.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me: I have no idea where I am.

I turn around, slowly, and gasp.

There are countless boxes stacked up in towers, clustered in various corners of the room. There's a large object covered by thick sheet, and there are a few more boxes around that. There are a few cobwebs connecting the boxes to each other, but I try to ignore that fact as best as I can.

I'm in the attic.

I'm in the fucking attic.

The _forbidden_ fucking attic.

Setting my backpack on the floor, I walk slowly toward the large object, careful not to make any noise. I reach out, grab a fistful of the heavy material, and yank. The cover slides off, and I am stunned into silence.

It's a grand piano. It seems to be elegantly polished, as if the owner had just covered it up as soon as he bought it. The dark black color is a stark contrast against the milky white of the keys, and the contours of the piano seem more angular due to the lack of bright light in the attic.

I find myself running my fingers across the keys gently so as not to accidentally play a note.

"Wow," I breathe out. And truly, it is a breathtaking sight. A timeless grand piano surrounded by old boxes and cobwebs is, in a way, a mystical sight.

I frown. Why do Mom and Dad keep this piano hidden? Isn't that a little . . . redundant? I mean, the piano is beautiful, and I know that both of them played when they were younger. Why buy something like this just to hide it?

I take another step, intending to pull the bench out to take a seat, when I almost trip over a box. Gripping the piano for dear life, I catch my balance and look at the box. It's oddly placed, away from the other boxes.

Now that I think about it, the boxes around the piano are the weirdest. They're placed in random groups with no rhyme or reason to the arrangement. Some are groups of three, some two, and most of them are just placed next to each other in rows, surrounding the piano.

I kneel down, ignoring the dust, and try to open the box. It's taped shut, though, and I can't rip the tape off. Glancing around, I spot my backpack where it's still lying by the door. I get up, narrowly avoiding tripping again, and bring it back to the box with me. I find the house keys I still had in the small zip on the side, and tear through the tape with the key.

I set the key back down, not bothering to place it back in the zip and close my backpack, and open the flaps of the box.

At first, it seems like the box is just any other box, filled with letters all the way to the top. But the name catches my eye.

_Edward Cullen._

I furrow my eyebrows, confused. _Edward Cullen?_ I've never heard of an Edward Cullen in the family. I have an older brother, Emmett, and his wife Rosalie, but their son is named Masen, not Edward.

And besides, I think as I check the date, these letters are from seven years ago.

I look at whom the letter is from, and once again frown.

_Bella Swan._

I know the Chief of Police in Forks, Chief Swan, but he doesn't have a daughter. His wife left him early on, but they never had any kids before they split. Who else is there with the last name Swan? And what are these letters doing in my house?

I hesitate before opening the envelope. Isn't it wrong to read someone else's mail? But curiosity takes hold and I open the envelope regardless.

I carefully pull out the letter, slightly worried that it might crumble to dust in my hands. I open the letter slowly along the defined creases, and read.

_Dear Edward,_

_I don't want any more excuses, okay? I'm just . . . done. I can't do this anymore._

_I know that it's probably not your fault. That, if I listen to you, you might just convince me that it was all Tanya. But I also know that I'm just gullible enough to believe you if you said that it was because you were being possessed by an ancient ghost or because of the alignment of the sun to Venus and how Saturn just passed by Jupiter in orbit._

_But don't think that I don't still love you, because I do. I don't care whether any of this was real or not to you, but it was real to me. All the times you kissed me, all the times you hugged me, all the times you held my hand . . . all the times you held me . . . I'll never forget them. Ever. Even if I wanted to . . . ._

_I love you, Edward, and I always will. I can't help it. But I just can't do this anymore . . . not after what you did._

_I'm sorry._

_Love,_

_Bella_

My eyes widen as I quickly reread the letter. These two people are in love! Or were. Or maybe they still are.

I shake my head, not wanting a headache. I glance again at the box full of letters, and a small smile starts to form on my face.

I'm a love story addict, and a mystery addict. And these . . . these are real people who wrote letters to each other seven years ago. Letters that I now hold in my hands. I'm almost giddy with excitement and a sense of thrill.

Before I put it back, I look at the date on this specific letter.

_December 17, 2006._

This was written a little more than a week before Christmas.

A small part of me feels sad, now, knowing that these people probably broke up right before Christmas. But another part of me can't wait to see―more like read―their story through these letters.

I'm grinning as I close the box and put it back where it was. I get up and cover the piano back up again as well, not wanting anyone to know that I have been here.

I grab my keys and pick up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, and cautiously step back outside after making sure no one is in the hallway.

Silently reaching my bedroom door, I quickly grasp the lock pick I keep attached to my keychain. I unlock my door, stepping inside, and after a few seconds of hesitation I decide to just lock it again. I still don't want to face either Dad or Mom again.

Throwing my backpack to the floor, I step up to my dressing table and take a look at myself.

My hair is messed up, the spiky hairdo having tamed down, and the bangs are falling into my eyes again.

My face is flushed, though whether it's from the excitement or moving around so much, I don't know.

And my eyes are glinting with the thrill of finding the first piece of what I'm sure will be one hell of an adventure.

* * *

**Alright. I may or may not have to change the rating, but not quite yet (or at least I don't think). But it won't be because of anything too . . . sexual. It'll be _mostly_ because of language. Call me paranoid, but it's better to be safe . . .**

**And I don't know how many of you will ask how the hell I got this idea, since it is pretty fucked up (see what I mean about language?), so I'm going to get this out of the way right now: this story is based loosely on true events. Obviously, the love aspect of it will be slightly exaggerated, but the Alice POVs are the closest to real life.**

**The chapters will also alternate between 2006 (the year Edward and Bella die) and the present, or 2013.**

**Over and out.**


End file.
